Stephen Crane (1871-1900)

An Episode of the American Civil War

Chapter 1

The cold passed reluctantly from the earth, and the retiring

fogs revealed an army stretched out on the hills, resting.

As the landscape changed from brown to green, the army awakened,

and began to tremble with eagerness at the noise of rumors.

It cast its eyes upon the roads, which were growing from long

troughs of liquid mud to proper thoroughfares. A river,

amber-tinted in the shadow of its banks, purled at the army's

feet; and at night, when the stream had become of a sorrowful

blackness, one could see across it the red, eyelike gleam of

hostile camp-fires set in the low brows of distant hills.

Once a certain tall soldier developed virtues and went resolutely

to wash a shirt. He came flying back from a brook waving his

garment bannerlike. He was swelled with a tale he had heard from

a reliable friend, who had heard it from a truthful cavalryman,

who had heard it from his trustworthy brother, one of the

orderlies at division headquarters. He adopted the important air

of a herald in red and gold.

"We're goin' t' move t'morrah--sure," he said pompously to a

group in the company street. "We're goin' 'way up the river,

cut across, an' come around in behint 'em."

To his attentive audience he drew a loud and elaborate plan of a

very brilliant campaign. When he had finished, the blue-clothed

men scattered into small arguing groups between the rows of squat

brown huts. A negro teamster who had been dancing upon a cracker

box with the hilarious encouragement of twoscore soldiers

was deserted. He sat mournfully down. Smoke drifted lazily from

a multitude of quaint chimneys.

"It's a lie! that's all it is--a thunderin' lie!" said another

private loudly. His smooth face was flushed, and his hands were

thrust sulkily into his trouser's pockets. He took the matter as

an affront to him. "I don't believe the derned old army's ever

going to move. We're set. I've got ready to move eight times

in the last two weeks, and we ain't moved yet."

The tall soldier felT called upon to defend the truth of a rumor

he himself had introduced. He and the loud one came near to

fighting over it.

A corporal began to swear before the assemblage. He had just put

a costly board floor in his house, he said. During the early

spring he had refrained from adding extensively to the comfort

of his environment because he had felt that the army might start

on the march at any moment. Of late, however, he had been

impressed that they were in a sort of eternal camp.

Many of the men engaged in a spirited debate. One outlined in a

peculiarly lucid manner all the plans of the commanding general.

He was opposed by men who advocated that there were other plans

of campaign. They clamored at each other, numbers making futile

bids for the popular attention. Meanwhile, the soldier who had

fetched the rumor bustled about with much importance. He was

continually assailed by questions.

"What's up, Jim?"

"Th'army's goin' t' move."

"Ah, what yeh talkin' about? How yeh know it is?"

"Well, yeh kin b'lieve me er not, jest as yeh like.

I don't care a hang."

There was much food for thought in the manner in which he replied.

He came near to convincing them by disdaining to produce proofs.

They grew much excited over it.

There was a youthful private who listened with eager ears to the

words of the tall soldier and to the varied comments of his comrades.

After receiving a fill of discussions concerning marches and attacks,

he went to his hut and crawled through an intricate hole that served

it as a door. He wished to be alone with some new thoughts that had

lately come to him.

He lay down on a wide bunk that stretched across the end of the room.

In the other end, cracker boxes were made to serve as furniture.

They were grouped about the fireplace. A picture from an illustrated

weekly was upon the log walls, and three rifles were paralleled on pegs.

Equipments hung on handy projections, and some tin dishes lay upon

a small pile of firewood. A folded tent was serving as a roof.

The sunlight, without, beating upon it, made it glow a light yellow shade.

A small window shot an oblique square of whiter light upon the cluttered

floor. The smoke from the fire at times neglected the clay chimney and

wreathed into the room, and this flimsy chimney of clay and sticks

made endless threats to set ablaze the whole establishment.

The youth was in a little trance of astonishment. So they were

at last going to fight. On the morrow, perhaps, there would be a

battle, and he would be in it. For a time he was obliged to

labor to make himself believe. He could not accept with

assurance an omen that he was about to mingle in one of those

great affairs of the earth.

He had, of course, dreamed of battles all his life--of vague and

bloody conflicts that had thrilled him with their sweep and fire.

In visions he had seen himself in many struggles. He had

imagined peoples secure in the shadow of his eagle-eyed prowess.

But awake he had regarded battles as crimson blotches on the

pages of the past. He had put them as things of the bygone with

his thought-images of heavy crowns and high castles. There was a

portion of the world's history which he had regarded as the time

of wars, but it, he thought, had been long gone over the horizon

and had disappeared forever.

From his home his youthful eyes had looked upon the war in his

own country with distrust. It must be some sort of a play affair.

He had long despaired of witnessing a Greeklike struggle. Such

would be no more, he had said. Men were better, or more timid.

Secular and religious education had effaced the throat-grappling

instinct, or else firm finance held in check the passions.

He had burned several times to enlist. Tales of great movements

shook the land. They might not be distinctly Homeric, but there

seemed to be much glory in them. He had read of marches, sieges,

conflicts, and he had longed to see it all. His busy mind had

drawn for him large pictures extravagant in color, lurid with

breathless deeds.

But his mother had discouraged him. She had affected to look

with some contempt upon the quality of his war ardor and patriotism.

She could calmly seat herself and with no apparent difficulty give

him many hundreds of reasons why he was of vastly more importance

on the farm than on the field of battle. She had had certain ways

of expression that told him that her statements on the subject

came from a deep conviction. Moreover, on her side, was his

belief that her ethical motive in the argument was impregnable.

At last, however, he had made firm rebellion against this yellow

light thrown upon the color of his ambitions. The newspapers,

the gossip of the village, his own picturings, had aroused him

to an uncheckable degree. They were in truth fighting finely

down there. Almost every day the newspaper printed accounts of a

decisive victory.

One night, as he lay in bed, the winds had carried to him the

clangoring of the church bell as some enthusiast jerked the

rope frantically to tell the twisted news of a great battle.

This voice of the people rejoicing in the night had made him shiver

in a prolonged ecstasy of excitement. Later, he had gone down to

his mother's room and had spoken thus: "Ma, I'm going to enlist."

"Henry, don't you be a fool," his mother had replied. She had

then covered her face with the quilt. There was an end to the

matter for that night.

Nevertheless, the next morning he had gone to a town that was

near his mother's farm and had enlisted in a company that was

forming there. When he had returned home his mother was milking

the brindle cow. Four others stood waiting. "Ma, I've enlisted,"

he had said to her diffidently. There was a short silence.

"The Lord's will be done, Henry," she had finally replied,

and had then continued to milk the brindle cow.

When he had stood in the doorway with his soldier's clothes on

his back, and with the light of excitement and expectancy in his

eyes almost defeating the glow of regret for the home bonds, he had

seen two tears leaving their trails on his mother's scarred cheeks.

Still, she had disappointed him by saying nothing whatever about

returning with his shield or on it. He had privately primed

himself for a beautiful scene. He had prepared certain sentences

which he thought could be used with touching effect. But her

words destroyed his plans. She had doggedly peeled potatoes and

addressed him as follows: "You watch out, Henry, an' take good

care of yerself in this here fighting business--you watch, an'

take good care of yerself. Don't go a-thinkin' you can lick the

hull rebel army at the start, because yeh can't. Yer jest one

little feller amongst a hull lot of others, and yeh've got to

keep quiet an' do what they tell yeh. I know how you are, Henry.

"I've knet yeh eight pair of socks, Henry, and I've put in all

yer best shirts, because I want my boy to be jest as warm and

comf'able as anybody in the army. Whenever they get holes in 'em,

I want yeh to send 'em right-away back to me, so's I kin dern 'em.

"An' allus be careful an' choose yer comp'ny. There's lots of

bad men in the army, Henry. The army makes 'em wild, and they

like nothing better than the job of leading off a young feller

like you, as ain't never been away from home much and has allus

had a mother, an' a-learning 'em to drink and swear. Keep clear

of them folks, Henry. I don't want yeh to ever do anything,

Henry, that yeh would be 'shamed to let me know about. Jest

think as if I was a-watchin' yeh. If yeh keep that in yer mind

allus, I guess yeh'll come out about right.

"Yeh must allus remember yer father, too, child, an' remember he never

drunk a drop of licker in his life, and seldom swore a cross oath.

"I don't know what else to tell yeh, Henry, excepting that yeh

must never do no shirking, child, on my account. If so be a time

comes when yeh have to be kilt of do a mean thing, why, Henry,

don't think of anything 'cept what's right, because there's many

a woman has to bear up 'ginst sech things these times, and the

Lord 'll take keer of us all.

"Don't forgit about the socks and the shirts, child; and I've put

a cup of blackberry jam with yer bundle, because I know yeh like

it above all things. Good-by, Henry. Watch out, and be a good boy."

He had, of course, been impatient under the ordeal of this speech.

It had not been quite what he expected, and he had borne it with

an air of irritation. He departed feeling vague relief.

Still, when he had looked back from the gate, he had

seen his mother kneeling among the potato parings.

Her brown face, upraised, was stained with tears,

and her spare form was quivering. He bowed his head

and went on, feeling suddenly ashamed of his purposes.

From his home he had gone to the seminary to bid adieu to

many schoolmates. They had thronged about him with wonder

and admiration. He had felt the gulf now between them and

had swelled with calm pride. He and some of his fellows who

had donned blue were quite overwhelmed with privileges for

all of one afternoon, and it had been a very delicious thing.

They had strutted.

A certain light-haired girl had made vivacious fun at his martial

spirit, but there was another and darker girl whom he had gazed

at steadfastly, and he thought she grew demure and sad at sight

of his blue and brass. As he had walked down the path between

the rows of oaks, he had turned his head and detected her at a

window watching his departure. As he perceived her, she had

immediately begun to stare up through the high tree branches at

the sky. He had seen a good deal of flurry and haste in her

movement as she changed her attitude. He often thought of it.

On the way to Washington his spirit had soared. The regiment was

fed and caressed at station after station until the youth had

believed that he must be a hero. There was a lavish expenditure

of bread and cold meats, coffee, and pickles and cheese. As he

basked in the smiles of the girls and was patted and

complimented by the old men, he had felt growing within him the

strength to do mighty deeds of arms.

After complicated journeyings with many pauses, there had come

months of monotonous life in a camp. He had had the belief that

real war was a series of death struggles with small time in between

for sleep and meals; but since his regiment had come to the field

the army had done little but sit still and try to keep warm.

He was brought then gradually back to his old ideas. Greeklike

struggles would be no more. Men were better, or more timid.

Secular and religious education had effaced the throat-grappling

instinct, or else firm finance held in check the passions.

He had grown to regard himself merely as a part of a vast blue

demonstration. His province was to look out, as far as he could,

for his personal comfort. For recreation he could twiddle his

thumbs and speculate on the thoughts which must agitate the

minds of the generals. Also, he was drilled and drilled and

reviewed, and drilled and drilled and reviewed.

The only foes he had seen were some pickets along the river bank.

They were a sun-tanned, philosophical lot, who sometimes shot

reflectively at the blue pickets. When reproached for this

afterward, they usually expressed sorrow, and swore by their

gods that the guns had exploded without their permission. The

youth, on guard duty one night, conversed across the stream with

one of them. He was a slightly ragged man, who spat skillfully

between his shoes and possessed a great fund of bland and

infantile assurance. The youth liked him personally.

"Yank," the other had informed him, "yer a right dum good feller."

This sentiment, floating to him upon the still air, had made him

temporarily regret war.

Various veterans had told him tales. Some talked of gray,

bewhiskered hordes who were advancing with relentless curses

and chewing tobacco with unspeakable valor; tremendous bodies of

fierce soldiery who were sweeping along like the Huns. Others

spoke of tattered and eternally hungry men who fired despondent

powders. "They'll charge through hell's fire an' brimstone t'

git a holt on a haversack, an' sech stomachs ain't a'lastin'

long," he was told. From the stories, the youth imagined the

red, live bones sticking out through slits in the faded uniforms.

Still, he could not put a whole faith in veteran's tales, for

recruits were their prey. They talked much of smoke, fire,

and blood, but he could not tell how much might be lies.

They persistently yelled "Fresh fish!" at him, and were

in no wise to be trusted.

However, he perceived now that it did not greatly matter what

kind of soldiers he was going to fight, so long as they fought,

which fact no one disputed. There was a more serious problem.

He lay in his bunk pondering upon it. He tried to mathematically

prove to himself that he would not run from a battle.

Previously he had never felt obliged to wrestle too seriously

with this question. In his life he had taken certain things for

granted, never challenging his belief in ultimate success, and

bothering little about means and roads. But here he was

confronted with a thing of moment. It had suddenly appeared to

him that perhaps in a battle he might run. He was forced to

admit that as far as war was concerned he knew nothing of himself.

A sufficient time before he would have allowed the problem to

kick its heels at the outer portals of his mind, but now he felt

compelled to give serious attention to it.

A little panic-fear grew in his mind. As his imagination went

forward to a fight, he saw hideous possibilities. He contemplated

the lurking menaces of the future, and failed in an effort to

see himself standing stoutly in the midst of them. He recalled

his visions of broken-bladed glory, but in the shadow of the

impending tumult he suspected them to be impossible pictures.

He sprang from the bunk and began to pace nervously to and fro.

"Good Lord, what's th' matter with me?" he said aloud.

He felt that in this crisis his laws of life were useless.

Whatever he had learned of himself was here of no avail.

He was an unknown quantity. He saw that he would again be

obliged to experiment as he had in early youth. He must

accumulate information of himself, and meanwhile he resolved

to remain close upon his guard lest those qualities of which

he knew nothing should everlastingly disgrace him. "Good Lord!"

he repeated in dismay.

After a time the tall soldier slid dexterously through the hole.

The loud private followed. They were wrangling.

"That's all right," said the tall soldier as he entered.

He waved his hand expressively. "You can believe me or not,

jest as you like. All you got to do is sit down and wait as

quiet as you can. Then pretty soon you'll find out I was right."

His comrade grunted stubbornly. For a moment he seemed to be

searching for a formidable reply. Finally he said: "Well, you

don't know everything in the world, do you?"

"Didn't say I knew everything in the world," retorted the other sharply.

He began to stow various articles snugly into his knapsack.

The youth, pausing in his nervous walk, looked down at the busy

figure. "Going to be a battle, sure, is there, Jim?" he asked.

"Of course there is," replied the tall soldier. "Of course there is.

You jest wait 'til to-morrow, and you'll see one of the biggest battles

ever was. You jest wait."

"Thunder!" said the youth.

"Oh, you'll see fighting this time, my boy, what'll be regular

out-and-out fighting," added the tall soldier, with the air of a

man who is about to exhibit a battle for the benefit of his friends.

"Huh!" said the loud one from a corner.

"Well," remarked the youth, "like as not this story'll turn out

jest like them others did."

"Not much it won't," replied the tall soldier, exasperated.

"Not much it won't. Didn't the cavalry all start this morning?"

He glared about him. No one denied his statement. "The cavalry

started this morning," he continued. "They say there ain't

hardly any cavalry left in camp. They're going to Richmond,

or some place, while we fight all the Johnnies. It's some dodge

like that. The regiment's got orders, too. A feller what seen

'em go to headquarters told me a little while ago. And they're

raising blazes all over camp--anybody can see that."

"Shucks!" said the loud one.

The youth remained silent for a time. At last he spoke to the

tall soldier. "Jim!"

"What?"

"How do you think the reg'ment 'll do?"

"Oh, they'll fight all right, I guess, after they once get into

it," said the other with cold judgment. He made a fine use of

the third person. "There's been heaps of fun poked at 'em

because they're new, of course, and all that; but they'll fight

all right, I guess."

"Think any of the boys 'll run?" persisted the youth.

"Oh, there may be a few of 'em run, but there's them kind in

every regiment, 'specially when they first goes under fire,"

said the other in a tolerant way. "Of course it might happen

that the hull kit-and-boodle might start and run, if some big

fighting came first-off, and then again they might stay and fight

like fun. But you can't bet on nothing. Of course they ain't

never been under fire yet, and it ain't likely they'll lick the

hull rebel army all-to-oncet the first time; but I think they'll

fight better than some, if worse than others. That's the way I

figger. They call the reg'ment 'Fresh fish' and everything; but

the boys come of good stock, and most of 'em 'll fight like sin

after they oncet git shootin'," he added, with a mighty emphasis

on the last four words.

"Oh, you think you know--" began the loud soldier with scorn.

The other turned savagely upon him. They had a rapid

altercation, in which they fastened upon each other various

strange epithets.

The youth at last interrupted them. "Did you ever think you

might run yourself, Jim?" he asked. On concluding the sentence

he laughed as if he had meant to aim a joke. The loud soldier

also giggled.

The tall private waved his hand. "Well", said he profoundly,

"I've thought it might get too hot for Jim Conklin in some of

them scrimmages, and if a whole lot of boys started and run,

why, I s'pose I'd start and run. And if I once started to run,

I'd run like the devil, and no mistake. But if everybody was

a-standing and a-fighting, why, I'd stand and fight. Be jiminey,

I would. I'll bet on it."

"Huh!" said the loud one.

The youth of this tale felt gratitude for these words of his

comrade. He had feared that all of the untried men possessed

great and correct confidence. He now was in a measure reassured.

Chapter 2

The next morning the youth discovered that his tall comrade had

been the fast-flying messenger of a mistake. There was much

scoffing at the latter by those who had yesterday been firm

adherents of his views, and there was even a little sneering by

men who had never believed the rumor. The tall one fought with a

man from Chatfield Corners and beat him severely.

The youth felt, however, that his problem was in no wise lifted

from him. There was, on the contrary, an irritating prolongation.

The tale had created in him a great concern for himself. Now, with

the newborn question in his mind, he was compelled to sink back

into his old place as part of a blue demonstration.

For days he made ceaseless calculations, but they were all

wondrously unsatisfactory. He found that he could establish

nothing. He finally concluded that the only way to prove himself

was to go into the blaze, and then figuratively to watch his

legs to discover their merits and faults. He reluctantly

admitted that he could not sit still and with a mental slate and

pencil derive an answer. To gain it, he must have blaze, blood,

and danger, even as a chemist requires this, that, and the

other. So he fretted for an opportunity.

Meanwhile, he continually tried to measure himself by his

comrades. The tall soldier, for one, gave him some assurance.

This man's serene unconcern dealt him a measure of confidence,

for he had known him since childhood, and from his intimate

knowledge he did not see how he could be capable of anything

that was beyond him, the youth. Still, he thought that his

comrade might be mistaken about himself. Or, on the other hand,

he might be a man heretofore doomed to peace and obscurity, but,

in reality, made to shine in war.

The youth would have liked to have discovered another who

suspected himself. A sympathetic comparison of mental notes

would have been a joy to him.

He occasionally tried to fathom a comrade with seductive

sentences. He looked about to find men in the proper mood.

All attempts failed to bring forth any statement which looked in

any way like a confession to those doubts which he privately

acknowledged in himself. He was afraid to make an open

declaration of his concern, because he dreaded to place some

unscrupulous confidant upon the high plane of the unconfessed

from which elevation he could be derided.

In regard to his companions his mind wavered between two opinions,

according to his mood. Sometimes he inclined to believing them

all heroes. In fact, he usually admired in secret the superior

development of the higher qualities in others. He could conceive

of men going very insignificantly about the world bearing a load

of courage unseen, and although he had known many of his comrades

through boyhood, he began to fear that his judgment of them had

been blind. Then, in other moments, he flouted these theories, and

assured him that his fellows were all privately wondering and quaking.

His emotions made him feel strange in the presence of men who talked

excitedly of a prospective battle as of a drama they were about

to witness, with nothing but eagerness and curiosity apparent

in their faces. It was often that he suspected them to be liars.

He did not pass such thoughts without severe condemnation of himself.

He dinned reproaches at times. He was convicted by himself of many

shameful crimes against the gods of traditions.

In his great anxiety his heart was continually clamoring at

what he considered the intolerable slowness of the generals.

They seemed content to perch tranquilly on the river bank,

and leave him bowed down by the weight of a great problem.

He wanted it settled forthwith. He could not long bear such

a load, he said. Sometimes his anger at the commanders reached

an acute stage, and he grumbled about the camp like a veteran.

One morning, however, he found himself in the ranks of his

prepared regiment. The men were whispering speculations and

recounting the old rumors. In the gloom before the break of the

day their uniforms glowed a deep purple hue. From across the

river the red eyes were still peering. In the eastern sky there

was a yellow patch like a rug laid for the feet of the coming

sun; and against it, black and patternlike, loomed the gigantic

figure of the colonel on a gigantic horse.

From off in the darkness came the trampling of feet. The youth

could occasionally see dark shadows that moved like monsters.

The regiment stood at rest for what seemed a long time. The youth

grew impatient. It was unendurable the way these affairs were managed.

He wondered how long they were to be kept waiting.

As he looked all about him and pondered upon the mystic gloom,

he began to believe that at any moment the ominous distance might

be aflare, and the rolling crashes of an engagement come to his ears.

Staring once at the red eyes across the river, he conceived them

to be growing larger, as the orbs of a row of dragons advancing.

He turned toward the colonel and saw him lift his gigantic arm

and calmly stroke his mustache.

At last he heard from along the road at the foot of the hill the

clatter of a horse's galloping hoofs. It must be the coming of orders.

He bent forward, scarce breathing. The exciting clickety-click,

as it grew louder and louder, seemed to be beating upon his soul.

Presently a horseman with jangling equipment drew rein before the

colonel of the regiment. The two held a short, sharp-worded conversation.

The men in the foremost ranks craned their necks.

As the horseman wheeled his animal and galloped away he turned to

shout over his shoulder, "Don't forget that box of cigars!"

The colonel mumbled in reply. The youth wondered what a box

of cigars had to do with war.

A moment later the regiment went swinging off into the darkness.

It was now like one of those moving monsters wending with many feet.

The air was heavy, and cold with dew. A mass of wet grass,

marched upon, rustled like silk.

There was an occasional flash and glimmer of steel from the

backs of all these huge crawling reptiles. From the road came

creakings and grumblings as some surly guns were dragged away.

The men stumbled along still muttering speculations. There was a

subdued debate. Once a man fell down, and as he reached for his

rifle a comrade, unseeing, trod upon his hand. He of the injured

fingers swore bitterly, and aloud. A low, tittering laugh went

among his fellows.

Presently they passed into a roadway and marched forward with

easy strides. A dark regiment moved before them, and from behind

also came the tinkle of equipments on the bodies of marching men.

The rushing yellow of the developing day went on behind their backs.

When the sunrays at last struck full and mellowingly upon the earth,

the youth saw that the landscape was streaked with two long, thin,

black columns which disappeared on the brow of a hill in front and

rearward vanished in a wood. They were like two serpents crawling

from the cavern of the night.

The river was not in view. The tall soldier burst into praises

of what he thought to be his powers of perception.

Some of the tall one's companions cried with emphasis that they, too,

had evolved the same thing, and they congratulated themselves upon it.

But there were others who said that the tall one's plan was not the

true one at all. They persisted with other theories. There was a

vigorous discussion.

The youth took no part in them. As he walked along in careless

line he was engaged with his own eternal debate. He could not

hinder himself from dwelling upon it. He was despondent and

sullen, and threw shifting glances about him. He looked ahead,

often expecting to hear from the advance the rattle of firing.

But the long serpents crawled slowly from hill to hill without

bluster of smoke. A dun-colored cloud of dust floated away to

the right. The sky overhead was of a fairy blue.

The youth studied the faces of his companions, ever on the watch

to detect kindred emotions. He suffered disappointment.

Some ardor of the air which was causing the veteran commands to

move with glee--almost with song--had infected the new regiment.

The men began to speak of victory as of a thing they knew.

Also, the tall soldier received his vindication. They were

certainly going to come around in behind the enemy. They expressed

commiseration for that part of the army which had been left upon the

river bank, felicitating themselves upon being a part of a blasting host.

The youth, considering himself as separated from the others,

was saddened by the blithe and merry speeches that went from

rank to rank. The company wags all made their best endeavors.

The regiment tramped to the tune of laughter.

The blatant soldier often convulsed whole files by his biting

sarcasms aimed at the tall one.

And it was not long before all the men seemed to forget their mission.

Whole brigades grinned in unison, and regiments laughed.

A rather fat soldier attempted to pilfer a horse from a dooryard.

He planned to load his knapsack upon it. He was escaping with

his prize when a young girl rushed from the house and grabbed

the animal's mane. There followed a wrangle. The young girl,

with pink cheeks and shining eyes, stood like a dauntless statue.

The observant regiment, standing at rest in the roadway, whooped

at once, and entered whole-souled upon the side of the maiden.

The men became so engrossed in this affair that they entirely

ceased to remember their own large war. They jeered the

piratical private, and called attention to various defects in his

personal appearance; and they were wildly enthusiastic in support

of the young girl.

To her, from some distance, came bold advice. "Hit him with a stick."

There were crows and catcalls showered upon him when he retreated

without the horse. The regiment rejoiced at his downfall. Loud and

vociferous congratulations were showered upon the maiden,

who stood panting and regarding the troops with defiance.

At nightfall the column broke into regimental pieces, and the fragments

went into the fields to camp. Tents sprang up like strange plants.

Camp fires, like red, peculiar blossoms, dotted the night.

The youth kept from intercourse with his companions as much as

circumstances would allow him. In the evening he wandered a few

paces into the gloom. From this little distance the many fires,

with the black forms of men passing to and fro before the

crimson rays, made weird and satanic effects.

He lay down in the grass. The blades pressed tenderly against

his cheek. The moon had been lighted and was hung in a treetop.

The liquid stillness of the night enveloping him made him feel

vast pity for himself. There was a caress in the soft winds;

and the whole mood of the darkness, he thought, was one of

sympathy for himself in his distress.

He wished, without reserve, that he was at home again making the

endless rounds from the house to the barn, from the barn to the

fields, from the fields to the barn, from the barn to the house.

He remembered he had so often cursed the brindle cow and her

mates, and had sometimes flung milking stools. But, from his

present point of view, there was a halo of happiness about each

of their heads, and he would have sacrificed all the brass

buttons on the continent to have been enabled to return to them.

He told himself that he was not formed for a soldier. And he

mused seriously upon the radical differences between himself and

those men who were dodging implike around the fires.

As he mused thus he heard the rustle of grass, and, upon turning

his head, discovered the loud soldier. He called out, "Oh, Wilson!"

The latter approached and looked down. "Why, hello, Henry; is it you?

What are you doing here?"

"Oh, thinking," said the youth.

The other sat down and carefully lighted his pipe. "You're getting

blue my boy. You're looking thundering peek-ed. What the dickens

is wrong with you?"

"Oh, nothing," said the youth.

The loud soldier launched then into the subject of the

anticipated fight. "Oh, we've got 'em now!" As he spoke

his boyish face was wreathed in a gleeful smile, and his

voice had an exultant ring. "We've got 'em now. At last,

by the eternal thunders, we'll like 'em good!"

"If the truth was known," he added, more soberly,

"they've licked US about every clip up to now;

but this time--this time--we'll lick 'em good!"

"I thought you was objecting to this march a little while ago,"

said the youth coldly.

"Oh, it wasn't that," explained the other. "I don't mind

marching, if there's going to be fighting at the end of it.

What I hate is this getting moved here and moved there, with

no good coming of it, as far as I can see, excepting sore feet

and damned short rations."

"Well, Jim Conklin says we'll get plenty of fighting this time."

"He's right for once, I guess, though I can't see how it come.

This time we're in for a big battle, and we've got the best end

of it, certain sure. Gee rod! how we will thump 'em!"

He arose and began to pace to and fro excitedly. The thrill

of his enthusiasm made him walk with an elastic step. He was

sprightly, vigorous, fiery in his belief in success. He looked

into the future with clear proud eye, and he swore with the air

of an old soldier.

The youth watched him for a moment in silence. When he finally

spoke his voice was as bitter as dregs. "Oh, you're going to do

great things, I s'pose!"

The loud soldier blew a thoughtful cloud of smoke from his pipe.

"Oh, I don't know," he remarked with dignity; "I don't know.

I s'pose I'll do as well as the rest. I'm going to try

like thunder." He evidently complimented himself upon

the modesty of this statement.

"How do you know you won't run when the time comes?" asked the youth.

"Run?" said the loud one; "run?--of course not!" He laughed.

"Well," continued the youth, "lots of good-a-'nough men have

thought they was going to do great things before th fight,

but when the time come they skedaddled."

"Oh, that's all true, I s'pose," replied the other; "but I'm not

going to skedaddle. The man that bets on my running will lose

his money, that's all." He nodded confidently.

"Oh, shucks!" said the youth. "You ain't the bravest man in

the world, are you?"

"No, I ain't," exclaimed the loud soldier indignantly;

"and I didn't say I was the bravest man in the world, neither.

I said I was going to do my share of fighting--that's what I said.

And I am, too. Who are you, anyhow? You talk as if you thought

you was Napoleon Bonaparte." He glared at the youth for a moment,

and then strode away.

The youth called in a savage voice after his comrade: "Well, you

needn't git mad about it!" But the other continued on his way

and made no reply.

He felt alone in space when his injured comrade had disappeared.

His failure to discover any mite of resemblance in their viewpoints

made him more miserable than before. No one seemed to be wrestling

with such a terrific personal problem. He was a mental outcast.

He went slowly to his tent and stretched himself on a blanket by

the side of the snoring tall soldier. In the darkness he saw

visions of a thousand-tongued fear that would babble at his back

and cause him to flee, while others were going coolly about

their country's business. He admitted that he would not be able

to cope with this monster. He felt that every nerve in his body

would be an ear to hear the voices, while other men would remain

stolid and deaf.

And as he sweated with the pain of these thoughts, he could hear

low, serene sentences. "I'll bid five." "Make it six." "Seven."

"Seven goes."

He stared at the red, shivering reflection of a fire on the white

wall of his tent until, exhausted and ill from the monotony of

his suffering, he fell asleep.

Chapter 3

When another night came, the columns, changed to purple streaks,

filed across two pontoon bridges. A glaring fire wine-tinted the

waters of the river. Its rays, shining upon the moving masses of troops,

brought forth here and there sudden gleams of silver or gold.

Upon the other shore a dark and mysterious range of hills was curved

against the sky. The insect voices of the night sang solemnly.

After this crossing the youth assured himself that at any moment

they might be suddenly and fearfully assaulted from the caves of

the lowering woods. He kept his eyes watchfully upon the darkness.

But his regiment went unmolested to a camping place, and its

soldiers slept the brave sleep of wearied men. In the morning

they were routed out with early energy, and hustled along a

narrow road that led deep into the forest.

It was during this rapid march that the regiment lost many of the

marks of a new command.

The men had begun to count the miles upon their fingers, and

they grew tired. "Sore feet an' damned short rations, that's all,"

said the loud soldier. There was perspiration and grumblings.

After a time they began to shed their knapsacks. Some tossed

them unconcernedly down; others hid them carefully, asserting

their plans to return for them at some convenient time.

Men extricated themselves from thick shirts. Presently few carried

anything but their necessary clothing, blankets, haversacks,

canteens, and arms and ammunition. "You can now eat and shoot,"

said the tall soldier to the youth. "That's all you want to do."

There was sudden change from the ponderous infantry of theory

to the light and speedy infantry of practice. The regiment,

relieved of a burden, received a new impetus. But there was much

loss of valuable knapsacks, and, on the whole, very good shirts.

But the regiment was not yet veteranlike in appearance. Veteran

regiments in the army were likely to be very small aggregations

of men. Once, when the command had first come to the field,

some perambulating veterans, noting the length of their column,

had accosted them thus: "Hey, fellers, what brigade is that?"

And when the men had replied that they formed a regiment and not

a brigade, the older soldiers had laughed, and said, "O Gawd!"

Also, there was too great a similarity in the hats. The hats of

a regiment should properly represent the history of headgear for

a period of years. And, moreover, there were no letters of faded

gold speaking from the colors. They were new and beautiful, and

the color bearer habitually oiled the pole.

Presently the army again sat down to think. The odor of the

peaceful pines was in the men's nostrils. The sound of

monotonous axe blows rang through the forest, and the insects,

nodding upon their perches, crooned like old women. The youth

returned to his theory of a blue demonstration.

One gray dawn, however, he was kicked in the leg by the

tall soldier, and then, before he was entirely awake, he found

himself running down a wood road in the midst of men who were

panting from the first effects of speed. His canteen banged

rythmically upon his thigh, and his haversack bobbed softly.

His musket bounced a trifle from his shoulder at each stride

and made his cap feel uncertain upon his head.

He could hear the men whisper jerky sentences: "Say--what's all

this--about?" "What th' thunder--we--skedaddlin' this way fer?"

"Billie--keep off m' feet. Yeh run--like a cow." And the loud

soldier's shrill voice could be heard: "What th'devil they in

sich a hurry for?"

The youth thought the damp fog of early morning moved from

the rush of a great body of troops. From the distance came

a sudden spatter of firing.

He was bewildered. As he ran with his comrades he strenuously

tried to think, but all he knew was that if he fell down those

coming behind would tread upon him. All his faculties seemed

to be needed to guide him over and past obstructions. He felt

carried along by a mob.

The sun spread disclosing rays, and, one by one, regiments burst

into view like armed men just born of the earth. The youth

perceived that the time had come. He was about to be measured.

For a moment he felt in the face of his great trial like a babe,

and the flesh over his heart seemed very thin. He seized time to

look about him calculatingly.

But he instantly saw that it would be impossible for him to

escape from the regiment. It inclosed him. And there were iron

laws of tradition and law on four sides. He was in a moving box.

As he perceived this fact it occurred to him that he had never

wished to come to the war. He had not enlisted of his free will.

He had been dragged by the merciless government. And now they

were taking him out to be slaughtered.

The regiment slid down a bank and wallowed across a little stream.

The mournful current moved slowly on, and from the water,

shaded black, some white bubble eyes looked at the men.

As they climbed the hill on the farther side artillery began to boom.

Here the youth forgot many things as he felt a sudden impulse of curiosity.

He scrambled up the bank with a speed that could not be exceeded by a

bloodthirsty man.

He expected a battle scene.

There were some little fields girted and squeezed by a forest.

Spread over the grass and in among the tree trunks, he could see

knots and waving lines of skirmishers who were running hither and

thither and firing at the landscape. A dark battle line lay upon

a sunstruck clearing that gleamed orange color. A flag fluttered.

Other regiments floundered up the bank. The brigade was formed

in line of battle, and after a pause started slowly through

the woods in the rear of the receding skirmishers, who were

continually melting into the scene to appear again farther on.

They were always busy as bees, deeply absorbed in their little combats.

The youth tried to observe everything. He did not use care to

avoid trees and branches, and his forgotten feet were constantly

knocking against stones or getting entangled in briers. He was

aware that these battalions with their commotions were woven red

and startling into the gentle fabric of softened greens and browns.

It looked to be a wrong place for a battle field.

The skirmishers in advance fascinated him. Their shots into

thickets and at distant and prominent trees spoke to him of

tragedies--hidden, mysterious, solemn.

Once the line encountered the body of a dead soldier. He lay

upon his back staring at the sky. He was dressed in an awkward

suit of yellowish brown. The youth could see that the soles of

his shoes had been worn to the thinness of writing paper, and

from a great rent in one the dead foot projected piteously. And

it was as if fate had betrayed the soldier. In death it exposed

to his enemies that poverty which in life he had perhaps concealed

from his friends.

The ranks opened covertly to avoid the corpse. The invulnerable

dead man forced a way for himself. The youth looked keenly at

the ashen face. The wind raised the tawny beard. It moved as if

a hand were stroking it. He vaguely desired to walk around and

around the body and stare; the impulse of the living to try to

read in dead eyes the answer to the Question.

During the march the ardor which the youth had acquired when out

of view of the field rapidly faded to nothing. His curiosity was

quite easily satisfied. If an intense scene had caught him with

its wild swing as he came to the top of the bank, he might have

gone gone roaring on. This advance upon Nature was too calm.

He had opportunity to reflect. He had time in which to wonder

about himself and to attempt to probe his sensations.

Absurd ideas took hold upon him. He thought that he did not

relish the landscape. It threatened him. A coldness swept over

his back, and it is true that his trousers felt to him that they

were no fit for his legs at all.

A house standing placidly in distant fields had to him an ominous look.

The shadows of the woods were formidable. He was certain that in this

vista there lurked fierce-eyed hosts. The swift thought came to him

that the generals did not know what they were about. It was all a trap.

Suddenly those close forests would bristle with rifle barrels.

Ironlike brigades would appear in the rear. They were all going

to be sacrificed. The generals were stupids. The enemy would

presently swallow the whole command. He glared about him,

expecting to see the stealthy approach of his death.

He thought that he must break from the ranks and harangue his comrades.

They must not all be killed like pigs; and he was sure it would come to

pass unless they were informed of these dangers. The generals were

idiots to send them marching into a regular pen. There was but one

pair of eyes in the corps. He would step forth and make a speech.

Shrill and passionate words came to his lips.

The line, broken into moving fragments by the ground, went calmly on

through fields and woods. The youth looked at the men nearest him,

and saw, for the most part, expressions of deep interest, as if

they were investigating something that had fascinated them.

One or two stepped with overvaliant airs as if they were

already plunged into war. Others walked as upon thin ice.

The greater part of the untested men appeared quiet and absorbed.

They were going to look at war, the red animal--war, the blood-swollen god.

And they were deeply engrossed in this march.

As he looked the youth gripped his outcry at his throat.

He saw that even if the men were tottering with fear they would

laugh at his warning. They would jeer him, and, if practicable,

pelt him with missiles. Admitting that he might be wrong,

a frenzied declamation of the kind would turn him into a worm.

He assumed, then, the demeanor of one who knows that he is doomed

alone to unwritten responsibilities. He lagged, with tragic

glances at the sky.

He was surprised presently by the young lieutenant of his company,

who began heartily to beat him with a sword, calling out in a loud

and insolent voice: "Come, young man, get up into ranks there.

No skulking 'll do here." He mended his pace with suitable haste.

And he hated the lieutenant, who had no appreciation of fine minds.

He was a mere brute.

After a time the brigade was halted in the cathedral light of a forest.

The busy skirmishers were still popping. Through the aisles of the

wood could be seen the floating smoke from their rifles.

Sometimes it went up in little balls, white and compact.

During this halt many men in the regiment began erecting tiny hills

in front of them. They used stones sticks, earth, and anything

they thought might turn a bullet. Some built comparatively

large ones, while others seems content with little ones.

This procedure caused a discussion among the men. Some wished to

fight like duelists, believing it to be correct to stand erect and be,

from their feet to their foreheads, a mark. They said they scorned

the devices of the cautious. But the others scoffed in reply,

and pointed to the veterans on the flanks who were digging at the

ground like terriers. In a short time there was quite a barricade

along the regimental fronts. Directly, however, they were ordered

to withdraw from that place.

This astounded the youth. He forgot his stewing over the

advance movement. "Well, then, what did they march us out here for?"

he demanded of the tall soldier. The latter with calm faith began

a heavy explanation, although he had been compelled to leave a

little protection of stones and dirt to which he had devoted

much care and skill.

When the regiment was aligned in another position each man's

regard for his safety caused another line of small intrenchments.

They ate their noon meal behind a third one. They were moved from

this one also. They were marched from place to place with apparent

aimlessness.

The youth had been taught that a man became another thing in

battle. He saw his salvation in such a change. Hence this

waiting was an ordeal to him. He was in a fever of impatience.

He considered that there was denoted a lack of purpose on the

part of the generals. He began to complain to the tall soldier.

"I can't stand this much longer," he cried. "I don't see what

good it does to make us wear out our legs for nothin'." He wished

to return to camp, knowing that this affair was a blue demonstration;

or else to go into a battle and discover that he had been a fool

in his doubts, and was, in truth, a man of traditional courage.

The strain of present circumstances he felt to be intolerable.

The philosophical tall soldier measured a sandwich of cracker and

pork and swallowed it in a nonchalant manner. "Oh, I suppose we

must go reconnoitering around the country jest to keep 'em from

getting too close, or to develop 'em, or something."

"Huh!" said the loud soldier.

"Well," cried the youth, still fidgeting, "I'd rather do anything

'most than go tramping 'round the country all day doing no good

to nobody and jest tiring ourselves out."

"So would I," said the loud soldier. "It ain't right. I tell

you if anybody with any sense was a-runnin' this army it--"

"Oh, shut up!" roared the tall private. "You little fool. You

little damn' cuss. You ain't had that there coat and them pants

on for six months, and yet you talk as if--"

"Well, I wanta do some fighting anyway," interrupted the other.

"I didn't come here to walk. I could 'ave walked to home -

'round an' 'round the barn, if I jest wanted to walk."

The tall one, red-faced, swallowed another sandwich as if taking

poison in despair.

But gradually, as he chewed, his face became again quiet and

contented. He could not rage in fierce argument in the presence

of such sandwiches. During his meals he always wore an air of

blissful contemplation of the food he had swallowed. His spirit

seemed then to be communing with the viands.

He accepted new environment and circumstance with great coolness,

eating from his haversack at every opportunity. On the march he

went along with the stride of a hunter, objecting to neither

gait nor distance. And he had not raised his voice when he had

been ordered away from three little protective piles of earth

and stone, each of which had been an engineering feat worthy of

being made sacred to the name of his grandmother.

In the afternoon, the regiment went out over the same ground it

had taken in the morning. The landscape then ceased to threaten

the youth. He had been close to it and become familiar with it.

When, however, they began to pass into a new region, his old fears

of stupidity and incompetence reassailed him, but this time

he doggedly let them babble. He was occupied with his problem,

and in his deperation he concluded that the stupidity did not

greatly matter.

Once he thought he had concluded that it would be better to get

killed directly and end his troubles. Regarding death thus out

of the corner of his eye, he conceived it to be nothing but rest,

and he was filled with a momentary astonishment that he should have

made an extraordinary commotion over the mere matter of getting killed.

He would die; he would go to some place where he would be understood.

It was useless to expect appreciation of his profound and fine sense from

such men as the lieutenant. He must look to the grave for comprehension.

The skirmish fire increased to a long clattering sound. With it

was mingled far-away cheering. A battery spoke.

Directly the youth could see the skirmishers running. They were

pursued by the sound of musketry fire. After a time the hot,

dangerous flashes of the rifles were visible. Smoke clouds went

slowly and insolently across the fields like observant phantoms.

The din became crescendo, like the roar of an oncoming train.

A brigade ahead of them and on the right went into action with a

rending roar. It was as if it had exploded. And thereafter it

lay stretched in the distance behind a long gray wall, that one

was obliged to look twice at to make sure that it was smoke.

The youth, forgetting his neat plan of getting killed, gazed spell bound.

His eyes grew wide and busy with the action of the scene. His mouth was

a little ways open.

Of a sudden he felt a heavy and sad hand laid upon his shoulder.

Awakening from his trance of observation he turned and beheld

the loud soldier.

"It's my first and last battle, old boy," said the latter, with

intense gloom. He was quite pale and his girlish lip was trembling.

"Eh?" murmured the youth in great astonishment.

"It's my first and last battle, old boy," continued the loud

soldier. "Something tells me--"

"What?"

"I'm a gone coon this first time and--and I w-want you to take

these here things--to--my--folks." He ended in a quavering

sob of pity for himself. He handed the youth a little packet

done up in a yellow envelope.

"Why, what the devil--" began the youth again.

But the other gave him a glance as from the depths of a tomb,

and raised his limp hand in a prophetic manner and turned away.

Chapter 4

The brigade was halted in the fringe of a grove. The men crouched

among the trees and pointed their restless guns out at the fields.

They tried to look beyond the smoke.

Out of this haze they could see running men. Some shouted

information and gestured as the hurried.

The men of the new regiment watched and listened eagerly,

while their tongues ran on in gossip of the battle.

They mouthed rumors that had flown like birds out of the unknown.

"They say Perry has been driven in with big loss."

"Yes, Carrott went t' th' hospital. He said he was sick. That

smart lieutenant is commanding 'G' Company. Th' boys say they

won't be under Carrott no more if they all have t' desert.

They allus knew he was a--"

"Hannises' batt'ry is took."

"It ain't either. I saw Hannises' batt'ry off on th' left not

more'n fifteen minutes ago."

"Well--"

"Th' general, he ses he is goin' t' take th' hull command of th'

304th when we go inteh action, an' then he ses we'll do sech

fightin' as never another one reg'ment done."

"They say we're catchin' it over on th' left. They say th' enemy

driv' our line inteh a devil of a swamp an' took Hannises' batt'ry."

"No sech thing. Hannises' batt'ry was 'long here 'bout a minute ago."

"That young Hasbrouck, he makes a good off'cer. He ain't afraid

'a nothin'."

"I met one of th' 148th Maine boys an' he ses his brigade fit

th' hull rebel army fer four hours over on th' turnpike road an'

killed about five thousand of 'em. He ses one more sech fight

as that an' th' war 'll be over."

"Bill wasn't scared either. No, sir! It wasn't that. Bill ain't

a-gittin' scared easy. He was jest mad, that's what he was.

When that feller trod on his hand, he up an' sed that he was

willin' t' give his hand t' his country, but he be dumbed if he

was goin' t' have every dumb bushwhacker in th' kentry walkin'

'round on it. So he went t' th' hospital disregardless of th' fight.

Three fingers was crunched. Th' dern doctor wanted t' amputate 'm,

an' Bill, he raised a heluva row, I hear. He's a funny feller."

The din in front swelled to a tremendous chorus. The youth and

his fellows were frozen to silence. They could see a flag that

tossed in the smoke angrily. Near it were the blurred and

agitated forms of troops. There came a turbulent stream of men

across the fields. A battery changing position at a frantic

gallop scattered the stragglers right and left.

A shell screaming like a storm banshee went over the huddled heads

of the reserves. It landed in the grove, and exploding redly

flung the brown earth. There was a little shower of pine needles.

Bullets began to whistle among the branches and nip at the trees.

Twigs and leaves came sailing down. It was as if a thousand axes,

wee and invisible, were being wielded. Many of the men were

constantly dodging and ducking their heads.

The lieutenant of the youth's company was shot in the hand.

He began to swear so wondrously that a nervous laugh went along the

regimental line. The officer's profanity sounded conventional.

It relieved the tightened senses of the new men. It was as if he

had hit his fingers with a tack hammer at home.

He held the wounded member carefully away from his side so that

the blood would not drip upon his trousers.

The captain of the company, tucking his sword under his arm,

produced a handkerchief and began to bind with it the

lieutenant's wound. And they disputed as to how the

binding should be done.

The battle flag in the distance jerked about madly. It seemed to

be struggling to free itself from an agony. The billowing smoke

was filled with horizontal flashes.

Men rushing swiftly emerged from it. They grew in numbers until

it was seen that the whole command was fleeing. The flag suddenly

sank down as if dying. Its motion as it fell was a gesture of despair.

Wild yells came from behind the walls of smoke. A sketch in gray

and red dissolved into a moblike body of men who galloped like

wild horses. The veteran regiments on the right and left of the

304th immediately began to jeer. With the passionate song of

the bullets and the banshee shrieks of shells were mingled loud

catcalls and bits of facetious advice concerning places of safety.

But the new regiment was breathless with horror. "Gawd!

Saunders's got crushed!" whispered the man at the youth's elbow.

They shrank back and crouched as if compelled to await a flood.

The youth shot a swift glance along the blue ranks of the regiment.

The profiles were motionless, carven; and afterward he remembered

that the color sergeant was standing with his legs apart,

as if he expected to be pushed to the ground.

The following throng went whirling around the flank. Here and there

were officers carried along on the stream like exasperated chips.

They were striking about them with their swords and with their

left fists, punching every head they could reach. They cursed

like highwaymen.

A mounted officer displayed the furious anger of a spoiled child.

He raged with his head, his arms, and his legs.

Another, the commander of the brigade, was galloping about bawling.

His hat was gone and his clothes were awry. He resembled a man

who has come from bed to go to a fire. The hoofs of his horse

often threatened the heads of the running men, but they scampered

with singular fortune. In this rush they were apparently all

deaf and blind. They heeded not the largest and longest of the

oaths that were thrown at them from all directions.

Frequently over this tumult could be heard the grim jokes of the

critical veterans; but the retreating men apparently were not

even conscious of the presence of an audience.

The battle reflection that shone for an instant in the faces on

the mad current made the youth feel that forceful hands from

heaven would not have been able to have held him in place if

he could have got intelligent control of his legs.

There was an appalling imprint upon these faces. The struggle in

the smoke had pictured an exaggeration of itself on the bleached

cheeks and in the eyes wild with one desire.

The sight of this stampede exerted a floodlike force that seemed able

to drag sticks and stones and men from the ground. They of the reserves

had to hold on. They grew pale and firm, and red and quaking.

The youth achieved one little thought in the midst of this chaos.

The composite monster which had caused the other troops to flee

had not then appeared. He resolved to get a view of it, and then,

he thought he might very likely run better than the best of them.

Chapter 5

There were moments of waiting. The youth thought of the village

street at home before the arrival of the circus parade on a

day in the spring. He remembered how he had stood, a small,

thrillful boy, prepared to follow the dingy lady upon the white

horse, or the band in its faded chariot. He saw the yellow road,

the lines of expectant people, and the sober houses.

He particularly remembered an old fellow who used to sit

upon a cracker box in front of the store and feign to despise

such exhibitions. A thousand details of color and form surged

in his mind. The old fellow upon the cracker box appeared in

middle prominence.

Some one cried, "Here they come!"

There was rustling and muttering among the men. They displayed a

feverish desire to have every possible cartridge ready to their hands.

The boxes were pulled around into various positions, and adjusted

with great care. It was as if seven hundred new bonnets were

being tried on.

The tall soldier, having prepared his rifle, produced a red

handkerchief of some kind. He was engaged in knotting it about

his throat with exquisite attention to its position, when the cry

was repeated up and down the line in a muffled roar of sound.

"Here they come! Here they come!" Gun locks clicked.

Across the smoke-infested fields came a brown swarm of running

men who were giving shrill yells. They came on, stooping and

swinging their rifles at all angles. A flag, tilted forward,

sped near the front.

As he caught sight of them the youth was momentarily startled by

a thought that perhaps his gun was not loaded. He stood trying

to rally his faltering intellect so that he might recollect the

moment when he had loaded, but he could not.

A hatless general pulled his dripping horse to a stand near the

colonel of the 304th. He shook his fist in the other's face.

"You've got to hold 'em back!" he shouted, savagely; "you've got

to hold 'em back!"

In his agitation the colonel began to stammer. "A-all r-right,

General, all right, by Gawd! We-we 'll do our--we-we 'll d-d-do-do

our best, General." The general made a passionate gesture and

galloped away. The colonel, perchance to relieve his feelings,

began to scold like a wet parrot. The youth, turning swiftly

to make sure that the rear was unmolested, saw the commander

regarding his men in a highly resentful manner, as if he

regretted above everything his association with them.

The man at the youth's elbow was mumbling, as if to himself:

"Oh, we 're in for it now! oh, we 're in for it now!"

The captain of the company had been pacing excitedly to and fro

in the rear. He coaxed in schoolmistress fashion, as to a

congregation of boys with primers. His talk was an endless

repetition. "Reserve your fire, boys--don't shoot till I tell

you--save your fire--wait till they get close up--don't be

damned fools--"

Perspiration streamed down the youth's face, which was soiled like

that of a weeping urchin. He frequently, with a nervous movement,

wiped his eyes with his coat sleeve. His mouth was still a

little ways ope.

He got the one glance at the foe-swarming field in front of him,

and instantly ceased to debate the question of his piece being loaded.

Before he was ready to begin--before he had announced

to himself that he was about to fight--he threw the obedient

well-balanced rifle into position and fired a first wild shot.

Directly he was working at his weapon like an automatic affair.

He suddenly lost concern for himself, and forgot to look at a

menacing fate. He became not a man but a member. He felt that

something of which he was a part--a regiment, an army, a cause,

or a country--was in crisis. He was welded into a common

personality which was dominated by a single desire.

For some moments he could not flee no more than a

little finger can commit a revolution from a hand.

If he had thought the regiment was about to be annihilated

perhaps he could have amputated himself from it. But its noise

gave him assurance. The regiment was like a firework that,

once ignited, proceeds superior to circumstances until its

blazing vitality fades. It wheezed and banged with a mighty power.

He pictured the ground before it as strewn with the discomfited.

There was a consciousness always of the presence of his comrades